Dark Rebirth
by jwlockhart
Summary: A thousand years after the lives of Luke, Leia, and the rest, a new threat rises to take up the mantle of The Dark Lord of the Sith


Author's Note: I do not own Star Wars or any of its characters contained there in. All original content is my own and does not intentionally represent any person living or dead.

Dark Rebirth

Korriban

Deep in the Valley of the Sith Lords, at least that is what the rumors claimed this tomb littered valley was, a sole man walked its twilight paths. Rock crumbled under foot, even as he struggled to move forward. What was this place, it raised his hackles more with every step he took.

Looking around, one tomb stood out, the legendary Throne Tomb, though its surface was just a little less worn than the others. To this place he traveled, to this place he had spent the last five years of his life striving to reach, and to reach this place, he had committed murder for the chance of revealing its secrets.

The tunnels inside the tomb were crumbling with decay. Deeper he struggled through the winding maze of tunnels beneath the tomb. Somewhere in here, he thought, was the key, the hiding place of the ancient and forbidden secrets.

Silence reigned about him as he plumbed the tomb's depths. Searching ever for that one place, the place where the legends had lead him, the place where he would be reborn, free from fear, free from the ridicule and torment that others had heaped upon him.

As night fell over the valley, he stumbled upon a small room, a room humming with malevolent energy. Against the far wall of the room, a small altar stood holding on it a slender silver rod trimmed in black. Hesitantly he reached out for the rod. It was cool in his hand. Was this it? The key? The secret of the ancient Sith?

A humming filled the air in front of him causing him to look up. There before him a man of fierce proportion stood encased in black. The helm and mask over his face leant him a cold demeanor while the breathing of an artificial respirator chilled him to the bone.

"Greetings seeker, I am Darth Vader, if you are seeing this, then the Empire has fallen..."

"Yea," the man muttered, "only like a thousand years ago."

"...and our work was left unfinished. This is the first of several holocrons which I have left behind to guide a worthy successor to the mantel of the Sith. The dark side of the Force is a path to great power. Beware the Jedi, for they shall attempt to destroy you, unable to see the necessity of your actions." The image paused, staring right at him. "What is your name, my new apprentice?"

The man paused, surprised by the image's ability to interact, "J'rek Thran," he replied, "my name is J'rek Thran."

The image stared at him, as if sizing him up, "very well, J'rek Thran," it said, "this is your first test, take the holocron and leave this place, if you survive, then this holocron will teach you all that I have to offer, if not, then you shall have been one of the shortest lived apprentices in the history of the Sith. You have ten minutes."

The image disappeared and J'rek bit back a curse. Ten minutes, he had spent hours working himself this deep. With bitterness in his heart he grabbed the small crystalline holocron from where it had sat beneath the silver rod and began to run.

There wasn't time, he new that, but he ran anyway. He was so close to victory, too close to give up now. Anger and rage became his fuel as his muscles drove harder than they ever had before. Still it was no use. He could not achieve the impossible and it galled him, to be so close only to fall short now.

He slowed as he came to a corner which bordered a sheer drop. (jump) a voice whispered in his head, (don't slow down, just jump). He was dead anyway, he thought, no harm listening to ghosts. He cleared the ledge at a dead run, letting loose a scream of desperation. He felt it in that moment, something flowing through him and pushing against the cliff, and he sailed through the air, further than should have been humanly possible.

He landed, sliding and tumbling down a steep path. Reaching out, he tried to slow himself, however, he was sliding to quickly and soon tumbled out of a chute on the side of the cliff below the Tomb of Thrones. As he sat up, a gust of dust burst from the chute he had slid down and the valley roared as the tomb collapsed in on top of itself.

Whew! he sighed in relief. (Good) the whispering in his head returned, (he will do).


End file.
